


Emperor Kai Meets the Victorious Sage

by Idonquixote



Category: Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Movies), War of the planet of the apes, Xī yóu jì | Journey to the West - Wú Cheng'en
Genre: Crack Crossover, Gen, I don't even know how to tag this, Some Humor, Spoilers, 猩猩相惜
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 08:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18117053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idonquixote/pseuds/Idonquixote
Summary: The Victorious Fighting Buddha talks to a chimpanzee. And the world keeps spinning, much to the ire of the gods on high.





	Emperor Kai Meets the Victorious Sage

**Author's Note:**

> Another crack crossover from me, and still not the crackiest thing I've written! Some spoilers for the end of War for the Planet of the Apes, and for Journey to the West (spoiler alert: they finish the journey west). But I had to get this out of my system, and wanted to do some light fare before returning to the heavy stuff!

Upon his death, Caesar, at the age of having known enough loss and pain and some quantity of happy acceptance, was certain of a number of things. One, his greatest enemies- himself now among them- were effectively dead. Two, his youngest son was left in able hands. Three, he would not live to see his son speak his first words, or his tribe prosper in their new lands. But in his final moment of peace, a little flash of green hilltops and a setting sun, he was quite certain that one way or another, they would be fine without him.

And so, no longer needed and having lost far too much blood to argue, he allowed death to pull him into its final grip.

What Caesar did not know was this: he would wake up.

* * *

Death in itself is a painless encounter, slow and quick at once, and nothing more than a mist of half-thoughts in the end. This haze is much like a dream: thoughtless, wandering, and without end. But this too passes, and when the mist clears, he- who was once breathing- feels the tingling return of senses lost. The scent of lotus- unknown to the likes of him- comes first, then the feeling of skin under fur and the texture of flesh underneath, the sound of whispers and gentle sea, and finally, sight in eyes he’d thought forever shut.

When Caesar sits up, his chest pulls in a breath of shock, that fog clearing around him, fading and fading until the world grows clear, sharp, so bright and detailed that he shields his eye with a desperate hand. He’s on a pile of white, textured like dirt with the translucence of clouds. And then, he hears the laughter, a high almost-cackle that borders on a simian screech.

The chimp looks up, into what he’d first thought the sun. A figure gazes back, amber eyes rimmed red, a seductive pink pinched to his lids. The fur is gold, each strand bristling in sync as a slip of looped cloth moves, checkered yellow and red. There’s a life, a vitality to every tick of finger and tail, so dazzling that Caesar cannot look away. The monkey- not ape- smiles, a teasing curve about his mouth, and the first thought Caesar has is, _he’s pretty_.

“Thanks,” the monkey says, voice something like chalk and fire, “you’re pretty too, in that gruff sort of way.”

There’s a brisk easiness to his speech, an effortless pause between each word, some level of fluidity not quite human and so much above that of an ape. And when the meaning of his words finally connects in Caesar’s brain, the chimp blinks, unsure really of what to say. So he settles for the obvious.

“Who are you?”

The monkey flips on his stomach, one leg up, an electric weave of clouds bobbing under his every move. “I’ve got a lot of names, all of them meaningful and meaningless in one way or another.”

Caesar blinks again. And the monkey laughs.

“When you’re a god, you’ve got to talk in riddles, keeps the mortals on their toes,” he says, “but that’s too pretentious for ol’ Sun. For a few thousand years now, I’ve been the Victorious Fighting Buddha. Before that, they called me Pilgrim. And before that, the Great Sage Equaling Heaven, he who wrought havoc in heaven so many years ago, and before that, the Handsome Monkey King. But you, I’ll let you know my name, a given one- Sun Wukong. You know, ‘Sun’ like ‘ape,’ but without the beastly symbol.”*

Caesar does not know what that means. But he does process the name, Sun Wukong.

“Ah, that’s right, I forgot,” the monkey- Sun Wukong- says with a pop of sharp teeth, “you’re American. Write with Roman letters, eh?”

Caesar does not know how Sun Wukong can read his mind, or why his mind is so slow at present either. And for some reason, he attempts to say, perhaps compelled by the monkey’s gaze, “S… Swen… oooh… kong.”*

The monkey claps his hands. “Ha! I knew you could do it. Not a sound off. And yes, I know your thoughts before you know your thoughts. That’s what it’s like when you’re a buddha. And there’s your thought again- no, a buddha isn’t some type of monkey.”

The cloud comes closer, and Caesar feels the prod of Sun Wukong’s tail against his chest, soft and strong and a speck of unearthly warmth.

“It’ll wear off, you know,” the monkey says, “feeling slow. You’ve been dead for a while, kind of just floating around. I had to pull a lot of strings to get you here, you know? You’re not very popular down there.”

“Down where?”

The tail flicks his nose.

“Actually, I should say down there, and up there,” Sun Wukong tells him, “since myself, I’ve never met anyone quite so unliked in the three realms.”

The monkey pauses for Caesar to say more, but the chimp looks on, waiting for the next words to come.

“You’re as talkative as Friar Sand on a bad day,” Sun Wukong says. “Alright, so let’s get this over with. I’ll have to tell you one way or another- let’s start with why everyone hates you.”

When Sun Wukong touches him, it’s as if a spark of lightning passes through each nerve. Caesar feels every strand of fur move, swept up and down by the monkey’s light. A hand on the chimp’s shoulder, Sun Wukong, a force that seems to never stop moving, leans against his chest, and snaps his fingers.

In one hand, a swirl of breeze gathers, until it spins and fidgets into a tapestry of an image. Caesar makes out the shape of figurines, intricately carved, decidedly man-shaped, and standing before high altars of red and gold.

“Celestials are a vain species,” Sun Wukong remarks, “most of them used to be mortal- human- but when you’re a god, things are different. It’s not the same when you’re worshipped day in and day out by people you think beneath you. They’re not so weak that their power comes from worship, but not so humble that they can stand _not_ to be worshipped.”

He waves his hand. And a gibbon crawls up, crudely dressed in makeshift cloth. Its companions, some baboons and macaques in the mix, follow suit, climbing and climbing atop the high statues, clubs in hand. And together, they lop the heads clean off.

“The thing about most gods is that they look human. But they’ve taken it for granted that the _real_ humans will always be there to kiss their asses.”

Sun Wukong’s fingers shift again. Another statue comes up, hauled into place by hooks and cranes, chimpanzees running to and fro to secure it. This one, Caesar recognizes. His hand moves of its own accord, as if expecting to touch the stone fur.

“Maurice,” he says in a near gasp.

“Your fellows don’t call him ‘Maurice,’ the monkey tells him, “that’s their Lawgiver. They burn incense at his feet, offer harvest and fruit and all that for his blessing.”*

“How long did he live?” Caesar asks.

“A while more than you,” Sun Wukong says, “a good decade or two more. They all lived longer than you.”

“My son?”

“Even him.”

Then the monkey snaps his fingers again. The image shifts back to the headless figurines, perhaps a few centuries in, and Caesar sees that the faces are back. But their features have been chiseled away until what remains is not man, but monkey.

“This is true of all species.” Sun Wukong grins. “We’re all conceited. Why should an ape worship something that looks like a man? It’s been a long time since any celestial’s gotten praise from a follower.”

“And they blame me for this?” Caesar says.

“You bet! Animals would beg to become human, they’d do anything for a human shape. It’s been that way since the beginning of time. You and me, we’ve always been the lowest there was. It changed once with me. And it changed again with you.”

Sun Wukong hops back on his cloud and stretches a hand, finger roaming across the chimp’s face. “You turned everything upside down, ol’ Kai. Flipped the food chain the other way around. And it’s driving the gods crazy. As far as they’re concerned, you took everything from them.”

“I did not want this.” Caesar looks away, a pit of guilt building inside. “I fought to protect my apes. That was all. The humans, I didn’t know they would end up like this.”

Sun Wukong scoffs. He runs his hands through Caesar’s scalp, as if picking for fleas. “What’s done is done. And can’t really blame you for it. Between you and me, mankind had it coming for a while. Grandpa thinks the gods had it coming for ignoring their ‘beloved’ mortals anyway. All around karma, wouldn’t you say?”

Caesar nods, certain there’s no point in arguing with the likes of the Victorious Fighting Buddha. But then, he remembers another word Sun Wukong said, and can’t help but ask, “Who’s Kai?”

“Kai Sha. Kaesar*, that’s you, my friend. You’ve been pronouncing your own name wrong your whole life, but I’ll let it slide. _You’re American._ ”

“Alright. Then why are you telling me this?”

Sun Wukong laughs once more, a sizzle of energy enough to lift Caesar’s spirits. “Because I like you, little Kai. That’s all. And I haven’t liked anyone since a boy in Ming*. I’ve met a lot of kings and emperors and whatnots in my lifetime, but someone who’d lay down his life for his lot? There’s only been you. More noble than every nitwit in the Jade court I know.”

The monkey removes himself from Caesar’s form, arches his back, and stretches. “And now that I’ve saved you from being reincarnated as a bug or something, I’m giving you a couple of choices. Your apes are doing pretty well- want to reincarnate? A few hundred years down, a rich family of chimpanzees, good connections, nice job, beautiful mate, not a worry in your pretty brain?”

Caesar thinks on it. Being dead, he has nothing much to lose. But that mate would not be his Cornelia. Their sons would not be his sons. And his family would not be Will Rodman.

“I’ve lived a long life already,” he tells Sun Wukong honestly.

“You were twenty.”*

“I was?”

The monkey shakes his head, a playful mockery to it, and says, “I’m around fifty thousand, and that’s rounding down. Reach my age and you can tell me you’ve lived long enough.”

“Then what is the second choice?”

“You’re a bright one. Taught your apes the English language when they didn’t even have gibberish to work with.”

Then, seeing the brief look of pride on Caesar’s face, Sun Wukong adds, “Don’t get cocky. I taught my monkeys seven different Han dialects. Grandpa did it before you, and did it better. Don’t even get me started on your water curtain cave knockoff.”*

The monkey strokes his chin, eyeing Caesar up and down. “So what I’m saying is you’re smart, strong, and you’re not annoying. I’ve been looking for someone to wait by my side- now that the other gods are out of the game, I’m going to be a busy buddha.”

“And you want-”

“Exactly. Now, don’t get me wrong. You had your trustiest apes. I had my best monkeys, four to be exact,* but when you grow up together, there’s a certain lack of respect there. Get what I mean?”

Caesar recalls some incident- he’s not quite sure what- when Rocket signed to him, _I thought you were smart, Caesar, but you are very dumb._ Yes, he nods. He understands Sun Wukong perfectly.

“But why me?” the chimp says.

“I already told you, didn’t I? I like you. And it’s not like nobody worships you-” Sun Wukong snaps his fingers, and the tapestry of color returns, “-they call you the great Emperor Kai. Which pisses off everyone else with an emperor title.”*

Another statue appears, fire flickering and smoke abounding, the splitting image of Caesar himself, a carpet of offerings and chimps at its feet.

“Of course, your Maurice is the one with the religion, you have more of a cult,” Sun Wukong says, “but it’s the recognizability that matters, no? So what do you say, _Emperor Kai_?”

Caesar thinks, trying to read between the lines of what the monkey has said. From what little time he’s spent with Sun Wukong, he knows the buddha does not appreciate idolatry, does not appreciate vain appearances. To join him would mean doing what he’s always done, thinking and planning and trying against all odds to solve problems that seemingly never stop. But this time, one way or another, they would stop.

“What would you have me do?” he asks.

“Learn my language first of all,” Sun Wukong says. He plucks off a strand of fur and blows it Caesar’s way, a heavy scroll of calligraphy falling into the chimp’s lap. “You’ve got enough brainpower to do it.”

Then the monkey extends a palm, an almost beguiling tint to his next words, “You coming, then?”

The charm works its way, and Caesar finds that he has no reason to resist.

“Yes.”

He takes the monkey’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope that was fun and feel free to leave comments/kudos!
> 
> This is probably the happiest ending I can imagine for Caesar- whose death was so tragic for me, personally, that I considered Infinity War a G-rated fun romp. And had an interesting time writing post-journey Wukong for once! And even though this is crack, I have a bunch of footnotes for it anyway (for anyone unfamiliar with one or the other story) haha:
> 
> * Husun 猢猻 is an archaic way to refer to primates. When Puti created a surname for Wukong, he took the character for Sun and removed this e "animal/beast" symbol on the left so it became the regular Sun 孫 surname  
> * Swen Ooh Kong - how we'd actually phonetically pronounce Sun Wukong's name in Mandarin. I don't know if Andy Serkis can do it in one go, but Caesar probably could if Wukong pulled some magic on his tongue.  
> * The Lawgiver is the god that the apes worship in the original "Planet of the Apes." They follow his commandments to a T. Matt Reeves confirmed that Maurice the orangutan is meant to be the Lawgiver himself in the reboots.  
> * Kaesar - the Latin pronunciation of Caesar. Kai Sha is the Chinese translation.  
> * The boy is Liu Chen Xiang, the son of a goddess and mortal. His mother was imprisoned under a mountain by his uncle, Erlang Shen. His story focuses on how he freed his mother. In some adaptations of the Lotus Lantern myth, Wukong took him in as a disciple in the Ming Dynasty. Highly recommend an_earl’s Heaven Looms series on AO3 and its lovely take on Chen Xiang and his family  
> * Caesar canonly died at age 20 in "War"  
> * Water Curtain Cave - Sun Wukong and his monkeys lived in a cave hidden by a waterfall in Flower Fruit Mountain. Coincidentally, Caesar and his tribe were also hiding behind a waterfall at the start of "War."  
> * Emperor Kai - Kai Sha Da Di; the official Chinese translation of Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar" and the official nickname for the historical Caesar. I imagine the Jade Emperor wouldn't be happy about this title for some chimpanzee.  
> * Wukong’s guards at Flower Fruit Mountain, Marshals Ma and Liu, Generals Beng and Ba


End file.
